Role Reversal
by corneroffandom
Summary: Alberto and Ricardo get caught up in another of Vickie's ridiculous stipulations.


A/N: This story is old. As you can tell by, um, Sakamoto for one lol. I started it months ago (October, I think) and finally finished it tonight. *shrugs* But yay, another plot bunny bites the dust lol.

Vickie Guerrero stands in her new office, an impassive look on her face as Alberto Del Rio and Ricardo Rodriguez stand nearby, talking rapidly and trying to convince her that he deserves another title opportunity, not wanting to wait for Smackdown to discuss the matter with Booker T. She lets them ramble on for awhile before finally clenching her hands into fists. "ENOUGH!" she yells over them both, looking pleased as they flinch away from her.

They both stop and glance at each other before turning back towards her, uncomfortable expressions on both of their faces. When she begins to grin connivingly, Ricardo reaches out and tugs on Alberto's sleeve, growing more and more uncomfortable as she stares back at them.

"I'm not sure what I'm more tired of," she tells them with a grimace. "Your complaints about wanting a title opportunity every week, or having to clear a space week in and week out for your gaudy rental cars..." Her dark eyes pass from Alberto to Ricardo as a wide smile spreads across her face, revealing more of her sharp teeth. "I think I have an idea..."

They watch on awkwardly, waiting to hear what she's thought up, as she sneers at them. "Get out of my office," she orders, turning her back on them after a few moments. "I'll make my announcement later, once Raw starts." Del Rio looks like he's about to argue, make demands, but Ricardo rests a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. It works some, the Mexican aristocrat turning sharply on his heel and leaving, the door slamming behind him as Ricardo glares at Vickie's back for a moment, following him with a brisk walk.

They're in the middle of the ring a little later, Ricardo just completing Alberto's customary ring announcement, when Tensai's music hits. Del Rio pales, Ricardo snagging his sleeve with one hand as first the man's worshipper, Sakamoto, appears, followed by the large, tattoo'd man who barely looks over at the young man as they walk to the ring, Tensai's dark eyes locked on Alberto as he weighs his upcoming opponent.

"Excuse me," Vickie calls out, interrupting them before Tensai could even approach the ring. "I haven't explained the details of this match." She cackles a little as Alberto looks over at Ricardo, appearing even more worried. "It's simple enough. Whoever loses this match has to trade roles with who's accompanying him here tonight for a week." As Del Rio and Tensai both stand frozen, she laughs even harder. "May the best man win!"

Ricardo quickly slips out of the ring, grimacing and fretfully wrapping his hands around the other. Del Rio looks pale, a little ill. If Vickie's somewhat vague comments mean what he thinks they will, should the Mexican aristocrat lose here, he'll have to take over Ricardo's duties and Ricardo will... what? Have access to everything of Alberto's for the next week? He feels uncomfortable, awkward. It's a daunting prospect, he doesn't want it. He's mostly fine with where he's at, the pay is good, and Del Rio isn't a horrible boss... well, usually.

As the match continues, growing more and more brutal with each passing moment, it's obvious neither competitor wants to trade places with the men on the outside of the ring, Sakamoto and Ricardo glowering at each other nervously whenever they end up too close to the other. At one point Tensai squirms out of Del Rio's armbreaker and sets up to slam him mercilessly against the mat, Ricardo lunging up to lean against the top rope in an attempt to help in some way, when something strikes his spine and he falls off of the apron, clinging to the throbbing spot in the middle of his back, just to find Sakamoto sneering over at him before scampering back over to his side of the ring.

He's so distracted by glaring at Tensai's worshipper that he misses how the match ends, just coming back to himself when the bell rings and Tensai's music fills the arena, startling him. "No, no," he breathes, looking up into the ring to find Tensai making it to his feet once more and raising his hands in victory as Del Rio rolls around at his feet, slamming his fist against the mat. "_No."_

Tensai is laughing at them while ignoring an equally as humored Sakamoto, walking backwards up the ramp, as Ricardo slips into the ring and hovers by Alberto, uncertain what to say or do- if there's anything that'll keep him from getting yelled at or attacked by the mercurial former champion at his feet.

"Help me up," he snaps at the ring announcer, reaching out for him roughly. Ricardo's just got him by the hand when Vickie's grating voice breaks through their individual fugues, both men looking up the ramp at her as she clears her throat loudly.

"Excuse me!" she yells out, ignoring the audience as they boo and jeer her. "Ricardo, let him go now." When he looks confused, frozen fingers still digging into Alberto's palm, she laughs. "It's not your job to follow his orders anymore, it's _his_ job to follow yours now. So I repeat... let him go. Or you're both fired."

Time slows as Ricardo reluctantly follows her command, releasing his employer and letting him fall back to the mat. As he leans up on his elbows and scrambles over to the ropes, forcing his way to his feet by hooking an elbow through the top rope, he appears uncertain about who he wants to yell at first, Vickie or Ricardo, but before he can, the Raw authority speaks up yet again.

"So we have some logistics to discuss about all of this. Please meet me in my office." She begins cackling again as she slips once more beyond the gorilla, leaving the two men to stare at each other and exchange words, Alberto's angry and Ricardo's pleading, until finally they reluctantly head up the ramp to see what she wants from them now.

Uncertain what to say or do, both men stay silent as they enter her office, unsurprised to find her and a referee waiting for them, the official looking as awkward as they feel. "What are you _doing?_" Del Rio demands, his lips pulled back in an annoyed sneer.

"Setting out some guidelines for the next week," she tells him in a sickly sweet voice, lips twitching upwards in a vicious smile as he and his ring announce exchange uncomfortable glances.

"Like what?"

"Well, we need to make sure that you don't try to weasel your way out of your responsibilities now that this match has concluded, yes? It'd be a cop out if I didn't keep an eye on you, and you snuck around, living life normally..." She only grows more smug as the two men exchange glances, not liking what that sounds like. "I'll be assigning a referee to follow you two around for the next week. Insure that neither of you forget your places." She sneers as she glances from Del Rio to Ricardo. "He and I will be in constant contact so I can be made aware of everything that happens and make sure it follows the guidelines."

Ricardo shakes his head, realizing that this means there's literally no way for them to avoid or get out of it. He glances anxiously over at his employer, stepping back as he realizes that the man is honestly shaking in anger as he snarls at the Raw GM. "I will not do this!"

"Oh yes you will," she laughs shrilly, only growing happier the angrier the Mexican aristocrat seems. "Now, now, Mr. Del Rio. Temper, temper. It won't be _that_ bad." She smiles ruthlessly at him. "Just remember, if either of you do something against the terms and the cameras or the referee catches it, both of you will be released from your contracts." As they glare at her and leave, her grin turns into all out, sharp laughter that echoes off of the walls and into the hallway.

Ricardo looks hesitant to speak, not wanting to anger his employer further, but finally manages to force out a thin, "What do we do now?"

Alberto just stares at him, as if unsure _what_ to say for the first time since Ricardo had been employed by him.

The referee follows them through to the parking lot, barely blinking as Alberto carries his bag and Ricardo's to the car. Ricardo's eyes are wide with something akin to horror as Del Rio squints in embarassment, leaning over to place the bags in the trunk. Ricardo's about to let himself into the car when the referee clears his throat, both men stiffening at the subtle reminder. Alberto sucks in a deep, angry breath before walking over to the passenger side and opening the door, waiting until Ricardo's safely inside to slam it shut behind him. He stares down at the referee warningly as he walks past him to the driver's side door, almost warping the frame with the venom behind Del Rio's jerky motion as he forces it closed as well.

It's even more humiliating when they arrive at the hotel to find a group of fans waiting for them, all pleas for autographs and pictures disappearing as the expression on Alberto's face registers, the people quickly moving away for the next arrivals. He carries the suitcases to the elevator and sighs in pained relief when the doors close behind them, blocking them from everyone's view. He notices the sympathy in Ricardo's gaze as he looks at him. "What?" he snaps, twitching when the referee clears his throat yet again in reminder. Only the second time and he already hates that sound with every fiber of his being. "Lo siento," he forces out after a long, awkward moment.

Ricardo stays painfully silent, watching with a blank, unsettled look on his face as Del Rio rests their bags on the floor outside of their room, unlocking the door for him before picking them back up. It's all so wrong, all so pointless. He feels horrible as he watches his employer do _his_ duties, disgraced and completely mortified by each and every thing he's now forced into doing. He wants to beg him to stop, emplore the referee to free them from these ridiculous requirements, but it's not worth it, sadly. Del Rio may hate everything about this upcoming week, but he'd hate Ricardo more if he costs him his job in the WWE.

As Alberto awkwardly sets the bags down and stands anxiously by, unsure what to do next, his ring announcer sits down on the bed and stares at him. He's painfully aware of the referee lurking nearby, making sure they follow Vickie's commands, and knows he can't just let Del Rio off here. "Get- get my sleepwear out, por favor," he says faintly, cheeks heating up as Alberto stares at him, something close to betrayal in his eyes before he ducks down and begins digging through the luggage for what he thinks could pass as Ricardo's night clothes.

Once he finishes, Ricardo swallows, feeling horrible, and collects the clothes selected in a neat pile before venturing into the bathroom and shutting the door tightly behind him, needing to draw the line somewhere. When the referee doesn't protest this at all, he closes his eyes and leans against the wall, trying to collect himself before he begins to get ready for bed. "This is all so, so wrong," he mumbles faintly, hitting his head slightly against the solid barrier at his back.

The next morning dawns bright and beautiful, sun pouring in upon Ricardo's face. As he stirs and stretches a bit, languishing in the silence of the room, he smiles. It is always nice to have a little bit of time to himself, to absorb the new day before he has to get up and begin doing things for Alberto, who is currently fast asleep on the other side of the room, his brow furrowed slightly as it almost always is anymore. His smile slipping slightly, Ricardo sighs and turns back towards the window, letting the sun warm his skin. He wishes he could do something to make Alberto happier, but...

It hits him like a bucket of cold ice water and he sits up with a faint gasp, finding that- yes- that damn referee Vickie Guerrero had assigned to them is laying on the couch, thankfully still fast asleep as well. He buries his face in his hands and wonders how exactly he and Alberto will get through this week without killing each other, killing the referee, or killing Vickie the next time they see her. "Ay Dios Mio," he mumbles.

Del Rio wakes up shortly later, Ricardo rolling over onto his side to stare at him. He seems quiet, almost calm, but as soon as he locks eyes with Ricardo, the younger man knows that he remembers. Neither man say or do anything, content to stay in their beds and let this just play out as it is until the referee wakes up as well and begins warping how their day _should_ begin.

Thankfully there are no events for the evening but they're traveling back to Florida for a couple of days, and Ricardo doesn't even want to imagine _how_ Alberto will respond to that. Their only saving grace is that the referee has coach seats and they have first class. After the shame of walking through the airport under the referee's watchful gaze, weighed down by his own bags and Ricardo's and feeling like everyone's staring at them, Alberto is beyond relieved to just sit in his seat and stew. Ricardo knows better than to say anything, risk angering the man further, but as the flight is about to end, taking their shortlived return to normalcy with it, he rests a hand hesitantly on Del Rio's arm. When he looks over at the ring announcer, Ricardo takes a deep breath. "Lo siento, El Patron. For all of this."

He sighs tiredly. "It is not your fault, Ricardo." He _almost_ smiles when he sees the shocked look on his ring announcer's face. "Come, let's go get this over with."

"Si." He watches, feeling strange and somehow empty as Alberto reaches up and collects their bags from the overhead compartment before following Ricardo out through the plane's aisle to the exit. The referee joins them as soon as he's able, dragging his own bag behind him, and they once more make the humilating trip through the airport to the carousel with all of the various pieces of luggage waiting for them.

Once those are collected, Ricardo hesitantly takes the lead out of the airport, standing by the car port while Alberto drops their bags into the trunk of the waiting car and organizes things inside for a moment before going to hold the door open for Ricardo, who flushes under the referee's close watch. "Gracias," he mumbles to his employer, his horror over the whole situation growing with each passing moment. Alberto doesn't respond, just shuts the door behind him and moves to drive them to Alberto's ranch.

The ranch itself, of course, is a fresh layer of hell for both men as the staff already seem well aware of what's going on, the house quiet and empty as Alberto carries Ricardo's things inside, the ring announcer following slowly behind him, already sick of this week. He wants his job back, he wants Alberto to stop looking so humiliated, he wants the referee to stop shadowing them everywhere... he just wants _normalcy_ back in his life...

But alas neither of them can have that, so they withstand as well as they can. Not wanting to make things worse for his employer, Ricardo ends up spending a lot of his days in his room, almost scared to move, spending his time reading or drawing, catching up on sleep the rare times his worry eases up enough for him to stop thinking. He can tell the referee is growing more and more annoyed the longer he spends doing as little as possible to keep his employer from having to do more common labor, Del Rio equally as annoyed the rare times Ricardo appears for meals or to watch something on TV, but they're not doing anything against Vickie's edict so the woman can do nothing about what's happening, their jobs secure for now at least. Finally their seemingly endless time off concludes and they head back out on the road that Friday, none of them sure how to feel about this.

Unfortunately, the General Manager is far from done with them. They've barely made it to the Smackdown arena in relatively one piece when Vickie calls them into Booker's office, a calculating look in her dark eyes as she smirks over at Ricardo. "Part of the role reversal deal is that Alberto takes over your duties, Ricardo... and you take over his." The two men exchange glances, both coming to realize what _that_ means before she can even vocalize it.

"No, no!"

"He's not a trained competitor!"

"He's competed before," she says, visibly disinterested in their arguments. "He'll be fine."

"But-"

"Need I remind you _again_ of the terms of the agreement?" she finally snaps, abruptly losing patience. "You switch roles completely for a week or I fire you both. Do you want that?" When they shut up, she smiles toothily. "Good. Now go, get ready, your match is next."

The trip back to the locker room is very quiet, very tense. They're once more being tracked by the referee and Ricardo can barely stand it, feeling like he's about to crawl out of his skin, but it's only worse once they _arrive_ at the locker room. Instead of listing Alberto's name as it has every other time in the past, the name plaque on the room set aside just for them now reads _Ricardo Rodriguez. _He chokes on thin air, gaping at it like a fish out of water, and Alberto goes even stiller. All the more quiet. It takes everything in Ricardo's soul not to glance over at his employer as he ventures the rest of the way towards the room, fully expecting the Mexican aristocrat to lose it at this further humilation and attack him, costing them both their jobs.

How exactly the older man controls himself, Ricardo is unsure, but finally he leans forward and opens the door for Ricardo, grinding his teeth together so severely that the ring announcer thinks it's probably audible in the next city. "Gracias," he says faintly, brushing past him into the room. Once they're all inside, and the door is shut tightly, Ricardo has to fight not to respond vocally again as he sees a singlet waiting for him to wrestle in- and a form-fitting tux for Del Rio to wear to the ring. They stare blankly at the clothes for a moment before exchanging incredulous glances, not sure what to do or say from here.

Alberto glances over at the referee a moment before spitting out, "No puedes estar hablando en serio!" Before anything more can be said or done, he angrily grabs the tux and storms off into the adjoining bathroom, Ricardo's eyes widening as he peers over at the unsettled referee.

Closing his eyes in horror at the whole situation and just how badly Alberto is taking it all, he slowly changes into his own gear for the evening and begins lacing his boots up carefully. _At least it's only a week,_ he tries to console himself. _Survive tonight and Raw and hopefully things can slowly get back to normal..._ Although he knows that they're required to do it through the rest of the weekend as well, he knows doing this life-swap, as it were, in public, on national TV, is what's going to truly kill Alberto.

When Del Rio finally shows his face, Ricardo is almost ready, just about to tape his wrists up. He stops, however, when he sees his employer and they peer at each other, still in disbelief that they've had to do this. "Well?" the Mexican aristocrat snaps, frowning at him. "How ridiculous do I look?"

"You look fine, El Patron," Ricardo refutes with a shake of his head. And it's true, Alberto looks much better than Ricardo tends to feel in _his_ tux, but he'd expected as much. "Is my wrestling gear... satisfactory?" He frowns down at the singlet and picks at the wrist tape, unsure how he'll be able to do this tonight. Outside of tag matches, he'd not had many chances to compete in the WWE. It leaves him feeling a bit ill.

Alberto barely glances over at him. "It'll do." He does look then and takes in how uncomfortable his ring announcer looks, visibly nervous about all of this. He takes the tape from him and helps him to wrap his wrists securely so he doesn't risk injurying them in whatever sick competition Vickie has thought up for him. "Relax, I will be by your side throughout this match. I will do what I can to make sure you are successful tonight."

Ricardo releases a soft breath and tries to calm down. "Gracias, El Patron."

Nodding slightly, Alberto peers over at the referee as if daring him to do or say anything about what they've been doing so far, but the man doesn't rise to the bait. "Are you ready to go?"

"Si." And so they go, Ricardo swallowing as his cue ends up being Alberto's music and he even gets to drive the car that they'd transported over from Mexico for Alberto. He closes his eyes and sends up a soft prayer Heaven-ward, begging to please let the car be in one piece once he's done with it, driving it carefully onto the stage next to the ramp. He feels like he's in one of the strangest dreams possible as he hears distinctly over the beeping of the horn the sounds of Alberto introducing him to the ring.

"...mi mejor amigo, Ricardo Rodriguez!" He even rolls the r's, similar to how Ricardo does for him, and the younger man blinks, surprised by just how much of himself Alberto had put into that, no matter how against it he may have seemed in the back. He finds his way out of the car and ventures towards the ring, trying to seem more confident than he could ever possibly feel. Of course their referee is out there, along with the one sanctioned to keep an eye on the match itself, and he closes his eyes, trying not to react as Alberto holds the ropes for him to enter.

As he waits quietly by the turnbuckle, Vickie not being kind enough to forewarn him who his opponent will be, Alberto hovers nearby, looking stoic and calm under the bright lights. He envies him- and even more so when unfortunately familiar theme music kicks in, his eyes closing in horror. _Ryback._ As he gapes at the tall monster coming much too quickly his way, Del Rio loses some of his ease as well, patting Ricardo on the shoulder with an unreadable look in his dark eyes. They have no choice in this matter, however, as Ryback enters the ring and Del Rio slips out, glancing from his ring announcer to his opponent.

There isn't a lot Ricardo can do no matter what he tries, his attempts at offense being swatted away like he's no more than a pesky fly and his defensive tactics barely enough to keep him out of Ryback's range half of the time. He can hear Del Rio on the outside, his thickly accented voice trying to encourage him, but no matter how he tries to focus on the match, the much larger athlete has the upperhand the whole time, even when Ricardo snaps off a couple of kicks that he'd learned over the years from Alberto. They unfortunately only seem to make Ryback angry and before long, he's up on Ryback's shoulders, body jostling with each step that he takes. He knows this is going to hurt and he's just squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the boneshattering fall, when there's a yell from behind him and fall he does- but not down, like he'd expected, but to the side in more of a tumble, where he lays, breathless and confused.

Alberto is standing between his prone body and Ryback's, breathing heavily as he roughly loosens the sleeves of his dress shirt, glaring down at the massive Superstar. He's spitting at him in angry Spanish, neither of the referees looking particularly pleased as Ricardo struggles to stand up once more. Ignoring everything else, Del Rio slips out of the ring and grabs Ricardo by his nearest arm, pulling him to safety before Ryback can get ahold of him again. Hooking one of Ricardo's arms over his shoulders, Alberto holds him steady as they walk around the ring, Ricardo's breathing ragged against his neck. "Are you ok, Ricardo?"

"Si, El Patron, gracias," he murmurs, overwhelmed by what a close call that was. The referee joins them before they can reach the gorilla position, but both ignore him as they walk towards the locker room. Once Alberto settles him down on the couch, he automatically collects a bottle of water and hands it over to Ricardo, barely seeming to realize what exactly he's doing. The exact same thing Ricardo would do for him after one of _his_ matches.

"Do you need anything else, Ricardo?" he asks, eyes dark with worry. "Ice? The trainer?"

"No, no, El Patron. I- I'm ok." He hesitates as Alberto nods, looking absently around the room. "Um, I do have one... minor request though?"

The Mexican aristocrat looks at him blankly, glancing subtly over at the referee before turning back to his friend. "Alright, what is it?"

"Would you mind... sitting and watching the rest of Smackdown with me?" There's maybe half an hour left, but Del Rio complies, joining him on the couch. Ricardo's eyes lock on the referee then, taking in how he looks exasperated but- Alberto's doing what Ricardo's asked of him, so... The ring announcer smirks. _This is better than hiding in my bedroom for hours... finding loopholes are fun._

"You look pleased with yourself," Alberto murmurs after a few minutes, taking care to be very quiet so they wouldn't gain the referee's awareness.

"I _am,_" he grins.

Alberto's well-aware of what _that_ look on Ricardo's face means, smirking also. _Something tells me the referee's going to be very bored of us by the time Raw rolls around._ He squeezes the ring announcer's arm and resumes watching Smackdown with a critical eye, taking in all of his potential match ups and how they compete. His suspicion ends up being correct when they return to the hotel an hour later, Ricardo slipping into the bathroom for a short while and, upon rejoining them in the main room, settling in front of the couch to watch TV.

Sure enough, he requests Del Rio to sit down and join him after a few minutes and the referee is forced to sit and watch them watching South Park reruns, Ricardo knowing that the show isn't Alberto's usual taste but figuring it's better than the referee expecting him to get Alberto to do some other, more degrading chore. By the small gleam of appreciation in Del Rio's eyes, it's obvious he agrees- Ricardo knows that whenever he's sitting, no matter what's going on around him, he can escape into his own little world and plan out chains of offense for future wrestling matches, and he figures that's what he's doing right now. So he's pleasantly surprised when his own laughter at the episode is joined in by a faint chuckle from Del Rio, looking over to find that his employer is honestly paying attention to the show, glancing over with a small smirk when he notices Ricardo watching him.

When the referee huffs in annoyance, both men only laugh harder, looking innocently on when he glowers over at them. He can't complain, after all, or claim that they're sidestepping Vickie's orders- Ricardo _had_ directed Del Rio to do this, so it counts, no matter how he might feel about it.

The next couple of days are more of the same, outside of traveling on to where Raw will be held, packing, unpacking, everything in between, and other things that would get them in trouble with Vickie if Ricardo should even try his hands at doing them. But the anger has faded, Alberto seeing now that Ricardo isn't trying to take advantage of the situation, desperate to find ways to make it easier on his employer, and whenever he has some meaningless order to give him, such as watching TV or walking around the grounds with him, the referee can't do or say anything because in the end, they _are_ following Vickie's restrictions, even if it's beyond dull for the man put in charge of making sure they follow the directions to a T this week.

By Raw, the referee looks relieved to be returning to his place of work, watching with a blank stare as Alberto stuffs clothes and other necessities into their suitcases, a small smirk on his face. Either way tonight goes, it's the last night he'll be doing this, the time that their roles will be reversed slowly ticking to an end. But, as he taps his fingers against the folded shirts filling the top of Ricardo's suitcase, he has to admit it hadn't been as bad as he'd feared. His ring announcer had gone out of his way to make things easier on him, either by avoiding doing much or figuring out ways for them to basically be _doing_ things, but nothing that would embarrass the Mexican aristocrat. He smiles slightly and shakes his head, yet again amazed by his friend's imagination.

Ricardo notices, staring at him with some surprise. After this week, a _smile_ was the last thing the younger man expected to see on his face. "El Patron?"

"Si, Ricardo?" he asks, looking up and blinking with his own surprise when he sees how exactly the ring announcer is looking at him. "What is it?"

"This- this week hasn't been too horrible, has it? I've... I've tried to be..."

Alberto blinks, looking thoughtful. "No, no, amigo. It's... it's been fine. I know you've gone out of your way to make it easier on me." He pulls away from the bags and turns to look at Ricardo. "After all that I've made you do over the years, the fact that you haven't tried to take advantage of this week... when you easily could've..." He shakes his head, smiling ruefully.

Ricardo shakes his head, eyes wide as he realizes what Del Rio means. "It never occurred to me, El Patron. I would never... humiliate you like that. If I could've kept you from everything that happened this week without risking your career, I would've..."

Eyes gleaming with newfound appreciation for the well-meaning ring announcer, Alberto sighs. "I know, mi amigo. Sometimes it's easy to forget that you are unlike most people I've met in the past, who are willing to do anything to put themselves ahead at everyone else's expense. Such... selflessness, I'm unaccustomed to it, you see."

Ricardo, uncomfortable with the rare praise, nods slightly. "I, si... I do. But you never have to worry about that with me, El Patron. You're mi mejor amigo, I just want the best for you."

He smiles and, standing, squeezes the ring announcer's shoulder, sighing. "I know. I do." They sit for a few moments in silence before Alberto nudges him. "Are you ready to get ready to go to Raw, finish this madness?" When Ricardo nods, obviously looking as forward to concluding all of this as he is, Alberto stands and gets their bags for the last time, unsure what Vickie could have waiting for them- whether it's another match for Ricardo, or something embarrassing for him, he knows that they'll see it through and then they will return to their typical roles by morning, no referees babysitting them any longer. Even so, he can't help but think that, after all of this, things _will_ be different, merely because he'd seen how situations are from Ricardo's perspective in many different fronts. The ring announcer deserves a better reward for all of his loyalty, Alberto knows now, and he vows to find a way to ensure that he receives it.


End file.
